


Mortal Thoughts

by fearformuninn



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: :D, Angst, Dark!Dipper, Demonic Possession, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Like really slow build, Lucid Dreaming, Not Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build, Stalking, TRUST NO ONE, by the way I don't mean billdip in a true love sense, demonic deals, gratuitous shakespeare, i wish that was a tag, it is a relationship of dependency and manipulation, of a sort, the demonic sort, theirs is not a romantic relationship, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:16:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearformuninn/pseuds/fearformuninn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pine Tree? Well, this is a surprise. To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to be summoning me any time soon. What's this about, kid?" </p><p>Dipper could've sworn he'd heard the demon laugh.</p><p>-</p><p>aka the one where Mabel and Bill play a metaphorical game of tug of war and Dipper has major paranoia and trust issues</p><p>(oh, what fools these mortals be)</p><p>△</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. by the pricking of my thumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper finds himself somewhere new. He doesn't like it.
> 
> Mabel finds herself without anyone to share with. She doesn't like it.

Dipper awoke in the woods.

He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but he shouldn’t have been worried. It was hardly the first time he’d fallen asleep outside. This little habit had caused Mabel to fuss over him several times, but he couldn’t help it. The wilderness was just so different from the city, and yet it felt so familiar. It had been truly amazing to see his namesake constellation for the first time, and he’d never really gotten used to being able to see the night sky in all its glory. He was sure that, realistically, it would lose its wonder eventually, but he would take it while it lasted.

However, on this occasion, he was on edge. Something wasn’t right.

Still hardly able to open his eyes from the grogginess, he rubbed his face, then shivered as a chill went up his spine. He swallowed, winced at the noise, and the realization hit him. 

The forest was completely silent.

Now that he was paying attention, it was horribly obvious. The light creaking of the trees, the animals shuffling through the worn paths between the trees, the white noise provided by the insect choirs; they were all mysteriously absent. 

What could’ve caused this? Dipper tried to think of anything in the journal that might’ve mentioned something about creepy, ominous silence, but nothing came to mind. He pried open his tired eyes, urging his fuzzy vision to sharpen. He couldn’t help but notice that everything was brighter than expected. As the details around him came into focus, he made the second big discovery of the night. The world was gray scale.

Dipper’s heart leapt into his throat, and he followed suit, scurrying to his feet in a frantic tangle of limbs. He was in the mindscape? But the only time that had happened was with-

There was a flash of gold to his right, and he spun around, barely containing a shriek. When he turned, there was nothing but more eerie forest. 

Was Bill there? And if so, what did he want? Dipper couldn’t help but remember his last meeting with the demon. He’d spent ages afterward trying to remember the terms of the contract he made, but between the stress of the situation and what had followed, he couldn’t figure out if the exact wording would mean that Bill could possess him again at any time.

The thought alone had kept him up for two days.

Terrified, he kept watch on the surrounding trees, his arms out in front of him, as if he’d be able to physically fight off any intruders. But as he looked out nervously into the dark, his eyelids grew heavy. The stillness had done nothing to keep him awake, and he was still so tired. He drooped, and even though his fear hadn’t lessened, he began to sink down to the ground, lying in the grass. The world blurred, and he thought he could make out the faintest laughter echoing in the distance.

-

Dipper shot out of bed, eyes wide. He usually never remembered his dreams, but this one, he recalled with uneasy clarity. 

Despite his worries about Bill, he had never been able to find much about the mindscape. It was yet another mystery with seemingly no answers to be found. Of course, there was one being in particular who probably knew plenty about the mindscape, but there was absolutely no way Dipper was going to trust Bill to answer any of his questions.

Dipper managed to lift himself out of bed enough to read the clock, then groaned. 4:23. He fell back on the bed and yanked the covers above his head, intending to get some more sleep. Soon, even his frantic thoughts were slow enough to get him an hour or two of restless sleep. He woke up to a pig on his stomach and sun in his eyes. He was just as tired as he was when he went to sleep the night before.

“Hey, sleepyhead! It’s about time you got up!” Mabel rescued Dipper from her pig and gave him a huge grin. He’d never quite understood how she could manage to be so cheerful in the morning. “You’re just in time, I’m making Mabel juice. Do you want some?” 

Dipper winced. “No thanks, Mabel. I don’t…actually, yeah, I think I will have some. Do you have enough?” Despite his initial hesitation, Dipper resolved to try at least a little. After all, it might help him wake up a bit.

Somehow, Mabel’s grin widened. “Of course I do, bro-bro! And,” her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “I heard from a little piggy that there may be chocolate chip pancakes, too, but only if you’re there quickly.” She winked. “Just between you and me.”

Some of the uneasy weight in Dipper’s chest lifted a bit at the thought of pancakes. “That is excellent news. What’s the occasion?” he wondered.

“The occasion is that I got Grunkle Stan to buy chocolate chips yesterday. We’re celebrating my success in making him a little less of a cheapskate.” 

The two laughed. “Now remember what I said. I’m not reserving any of those pancakes for you, mister, so you’d better get your butt downstairs before they’re gone, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I’m up, see?” Dipper dragged himself out from under the covers, already missing the warmth.

Mabel pointed at him. “Alright, but I’ve got my eye on you.” She broke character with a grin, and left.

Dipper laughed a little to himself and went to retrieve his hat. Mabel had almost made him completely forget about..

Oh.

The mindscape.

His light-hearted smile faded, and he bit his lip. Though he hadn’t initially intended to bring it down to breakfast, he grabbed the journal as well. 

Brushing his hand over the cover, he took a deep breath. Whatever he faced, the journal could help him stop any of it. With the journal, he was almost unstoppable.

With renewed confidence, he went down to the kitchen for breakfast.

-

“Phew! I was worried you’d gone back to sleep, Dipper! If you had, I don’t think I’d be able to stop a certain pig from taking all the pancakes.” She shot an accusatory glance at the table. There, Stan and Waddles sat side-by-side, each with a plate of pancakes. 

“You had better not be talking about me,” Stan grumbled, burying his face in the newspaper. 

“What? Oh, what would ever make you think that, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked in the most innocent voice she possessed. Stan rolled his eyes, and she gave him a grin.

Dipper cleared his throat a bit. “Hey, Mabel? Could I talk to you for a second?” 

Mabel frowned. “Yeah, sure, Dipper. Is everything okay?” She flipped one of the pancakes on the stove without looking away from Dipper.

“Yeah, fine. I just need to talk to you.” Dipper gestured to the living room, and Mabel looked back at the stove.

“Can it wait a second, Dipper? Your pancakes are still cooking, I don’t want to burn them.”

Dipper felt his fingers tighten around the journal. “I’d really rather talk now.”

“Well…alright, alright. Let’s go.” With one last flip of the pancakes, she followed her brother into the living room. 

Stan watched them go with a frown, but he did nothing to stop them. He glanced at the pig, who, to his surprise, was watching him intently. “What do you want?”

Waddles didn’t budge.

Stan narrowed his eyes. He would not be bested by an animal. “No, I’m not going to go listen in on them. That would be stupid.” He took a sip of his coffee, but the pig still stared him down. 

“Don’t you know a thing about the Rule of Drama? If I go listen in on them, there is no way I won’t get caught. Then they’ll both be mad at me, and I do not need something else to feel guilty about.” A pause. Waddles hadn’t moved.  
“And no, the Rule of Drama isn’t just in fiction, okay? It is a universal constant, and one that I’m not about to mess with.” Stan paused, but a giggle interrupted his next sentence. He turned to the door to see Mabel and Dipper reenter the room.

“Don’t look now, Dipper, but I think Stan’s finally taken a dive off the deep-end.” Mabel returned to the pancakes, pleased to see that they hadn’t burned in her short absence.

“I did not. I was teaching your pig about the relevance of drama. It’s a very useful lesson, and it was pro bono, too.” He chuckled. “On second thought, it wasn’t free. You should be paying me for your pig’s education.”

Mabel laughed, and shoveled her brother’s pancakes onto a plate. “Order up!” 

Dipper detached himself from the wall and took a seat at the table next to Stan. With the journal in his lap, he dug into the pancakes, hardly taking time to breath. Stan watched him inhale his breakfast, one eyebrow raised, but Dipper didn’t acknowledge him. 

“Hey, kid, is everything alright?” Stan asked awkwardly. Dipper opened his mouth to reply, and found it jammed full of pancakes.

Mabel answered for him, much to his apparent dismay. “He had a nightmare, that’s all.” 

Dipper choked and turned to his sister, looking betrayed. “Mabel!” he whispered frantically.

“Dipper, it’s fine.” She plopped down next to him with her pancakes. “He had a nightmare and he’s embarrassed about being scared, but that’s all it was. Right?” She looked pointedly at Dipper. 

He frowned at her, then shoveled another enormous portion of pancake into his mouth instead of answering. Mabel sighed.

Stan looked between the two curiously. Were they having a fight? If so, what could he do about it? He sighed. He should not be taking care of children.

After a few minutes of silence, Dipper excused himself and went back upstairs. Mabel looked pained to see him go, but didn’t say a word to stop him. Instead, she walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher.

“Grunkle Stan?” she asked quietly. “Do you want some Mabel juice?”

-

Dipper could barely refrain from slamming the door to his bedroom. How dare Mabel suggest that it was all just his own paranoia? Why didn’t she believe him?

Granted, he didn’t have any evidence that Bill had actually been in his dream, but who else could’ve brought him to the mindscape? Dipper knew Bill was behind it, but Mabel wasn’t so certain. 

She’d told Dipper that he had probably just had a nightmare, that not everything was a death omen. Same old spiel as always. Dipper had thought that the gnome incident had put an end to that, but apparently not. 

It was so irritating to constantly have people doubt him, even after he’d proved himself right again and again. He’d show them. He’d find a way to prove that Bill had been in his head. Dipper sat on his bed and grabbed a notebook, intending to work on one of the codes in the journal he’d yet to crack.

As soon as he began writing, his aggression evaporated. Not that he noticed. 

Influencing emotions is an energy-consuming activity, and knowing exactly when to do it is key. Too much, and people will notice. Too little, and there isn’t enough effect. 

But amping up Pine Tree’s frustration was all too easy. 

The sunlight flooding in through the window was an unnatural gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:
> 
> Dipper's memory is faulty, but that's probably just some weird side effect of puberty.
> 
> Mabel is not alone.
> 
> △
> 
> Birnam Wood does not march on Dunsinane. It suffers a heavy defeat.
> 
> Dipper is not alone.


	2. thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn to ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper's memory is faulty, but that's probably just some weird side effect of puberty.
> 
> Mabel is not alone.
> 
> △
> 
> Birnam Wood does not march on Dunsinane. It suffers a heavy defeat.
> 
> Dipper is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't intended to post this chapter so early, but I am but a weak-willed creature who bends easily to temptation. Seeing so many hits was enough to make me post this the very next day.
> 
> Chapter 3 will probably be posted on Wednesday or Thursday.

Sunset arrived to find Dipper still poring over the same page, only slightly closer to figuring out the key to cracking the code. However, he felt like the advancements he’d made that day were significant enough to help him with the various other codes in the journal.

Beaming with pride and productivity, he looked towards the window, squinting slightly in the bright yellow light. The sky had faded to a warm burnt orange, transitioning into clear blue away from the horizon above the trees. 

Suddenly reminded of his long day in isolation, Dipper closed the journal and stowed it away. He stood, stretched his arms, and made his way outside.

Dipper plopped on the porch bench and took a deep breath, letting the clean air fill his lungs. The first thing he had loved about Gravity Falls was the air quality. When he and Mabel arrived for the first time, they had spent hours crammed on a city bus. Stepping into the dirt and being surrounded by the scent of pine had been almost indescribable. It had amazed him that the glories of nature (mosquito bites, poison ivy, and faulty internet connection) had escaped him for so many years, and he’d never even noticed.

The wind whistled gently, toying with Dipper’s curly hair and the branches on the trees. With the calls of birds echoing in his head, he let an easy smile on his face. The white noise, subtle and undistracting, was a far cry from the usual chatter and shrieking that tended to surround the Mystery Shack. Even after hours, the Pines were a boisterous family, and it was not often that Dipper found himself in such natural quiet so close to the Shack.

He was still quite tired, but then, when was he not? Besides, he could afford a quick nap. Why not take advantage of the peace and quiet while he had a chance? He may not get another one for a while.

So Dipper, successful in justifying to himself that a nap was not out of the question, let his head rest on the backboard behind him. His breathing slowed and evened out, and his smile softened. Within a minute, Dipper had succumbed to nature and fallen asleep.

-

The change was sudden, and very, very jarring. 

It felt, Dipper thought, like when you’re tired and you’re not sure if you’re awake or asleep or some mixture of both, and then having someone shove you out of bed.

Dipper, lightly dozing on the porch bench, jolted awake when he heard the wind silence, stopped feeling it on his skin. The wind had just disappeared.

His eyes snapped open, and he was horrified to see that the orange tint to the world had left as well. Everything left behind had been changed to grey, looking like a cheap reproduction of the trees and grass and bushes that had been there before. The branches, which had been stirring the air, stood stock-still.

Dipper gulped audibly, which was not a difficult feat. With no other sounds to compete with, the moving muscles were all he heard. His weight shifted to a different part of the bench, bringing out a loud and unexpected creaking noise from the old wood. Dipper jumped, scrambling to his feet on impulse. 

For a few moments, all was completely still, save for Dipper’s thundering heart. Then, he let out a breath, trying to calm down. It was only the bench, Dipper. You’re too high strung. You need to relax, he thought with a sardonic note. Of course his attempt at calming down and taking a nap would backfire so astoundingly. And to think, he’d completely forgotten about his previous dream…

Dipper frowned. That was odd. He’d been so scared, and so angry. Mabel. Mabel hadn’t believed him. Dipper screwed his eyes shut, and he had remembered everything. It had taken up his whole morning. How could he have forgotten all about it so easily?

Dipper stepped off the porch, kicking a pebble towards the tree line and watching it skitter away. None of it made sense. Dipper was upset that Mabel hadn’t believed him, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. He was faced with disbelief at every turn, and though it was incredibly irritating, he’d learned to succeed despite it. Success in the face of adversity always made it sweeter (or so his dad had always told him whenever it disheartened him too much).

Another stone sat on the path, but it was no match for even Dipper’s foot. It soared into the trees. Dipper couldn’t help but think his anger was bizarre. Maybe this was one of the side effects of puberty? He grimaced. He’d been told far too much about it all, and yet there were still questions that no one would answer.

Dipper kicked the next stone with the inner sole of his foot, like they’d told him to do in gym class during school. All the sports kids had been doing it all along, Dipper noted with a slight sneer. The pebble slid through the dirt only a couple feet. Of course they only catered to the dumb jocks in that class, with no focus on the intellectually superior. It wasn’t fair at all to have an entire class just for humiliating those who weren’t good at the subject. All it did was give the stupid kids more to make fun of him over. Not his fault if he hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet, like some of those gorillas.

Dipper walked over to the same pebble he’d tried to kick and scooped it up, squeezing it in his hand. With a glare, he threw it into the trees at full strength, smirking at the satisfying thud.

But in the silence that followed, it was easy to hear the very quiet popping that seemed to come from the trees. His smile slipping off his face, Dipper walked over to investigate. 

From just behind the bushes, he could see a bright blue glow. The popping grew louder. Dipper took a step closer, peering over the brush. Where his last rock had landed, something else had taken its place. A piercing yellow eye gazed up at Dipper, peering at and judging what felt like everything he’d ever known. Suddenly, it burst into flames.

The fire was blue, and very hot, Dipper noted as he immediately drew back. As soon as he stepped out of reach, the rock seemed to explode, cracking loudly. The blue flames spread quickly in the gray foliage, and Dipper’s face felt seared. What had only moments ago been completely silent was now roaring with fire. A branch above Dipper snapped. 

-

Dipper screamed.

“Whoa, dude! Calm down, it’s me, Soos.”

Soos took a step back, hands up. “Are you alright, Dipper? I didn’t freak you out, did I?” He looked guilty.

Dipper took a deep breath, touching back down to reality. The world was noisy and bright. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier to see the color green. “No, no, I’m fine, Soos. I guess I fell asleep,” he said sheepishly.

Soos looked at him suspiciously. “Are you sure, dude? I mean, I’m pretty bad at waking up. I’ve karate chopped my mom so many times growing up,” he admitted. “But I don’t usually scream. That’s not a normal thing, is it?”

Dipper hesitated, but shook his head. “No, I guess it isn’t. It’s just…alright, you’ve got to promise you’re not going to tell anyone this, alright? Not even Mabel.” 

Soos nodded solemnly, but seemed hesitant. “Alright, man, if you say so. What’s going on?”

Inhale. “I keep dreaming I’m in the mindscape and I’m pretty sure Bill’s behind it and he’s trying to mess with me.” Exhale.

He looked up to see the damage, but Soos didn’t look surprised or alarmed, like he expected (and hoped). He looked uncomfortable. 

“Right. That.”

Dipper’s eyebrows came together. “You already knew?” He frowned.

Soos scratched the back of his head, glancing behind himself. “Uh, yeah. Mabel told me.” He looked back at Dipper, and his eyes widened. “Dude, I asked her myself, she’s not gossiping if that’s what you think. I just noticed you weren’t downstairs and Stan wasn’t making you work or anything and I asked her if you were alright, alright?”

“But do you believe me?” 

“Well, you see, Dipper, it’s kinda like what I told you a while ago. Evidence is definitely a big part of proving things. Not that you’ve gotta prove everything, but. Well. This is a little farfetched, you know? Who’s to say they’re not just nightmares or something?” Soos trailed off. He could tell it wasn’t the right thing to say.

Dipper scowled. “Because I can feel it. I can sense him when I’m there. And I’ve never remembered any of my dreams before. It all points to Bill!” Dipper, internally, knew his argument was not very strong. He had no way to make them see what he felt when he was in the mindscape. But with something as important as this, they shouldn’t doubt him.

“I don’t know, Dipper. I want to believe you. I really do. But it’s like, we both know you haven’t forgotten being possessed. Maybe you’re just-”

“Paranoid?” Dipper glared.

Soos cringed. “I wasn’t gonna say that, Dipper. More like you’re freaked out that something like that happened to you, and, well, you’re having nightmares about it.” He shrugged, looking at the ground. “I don’t know, man, but that’s kinda what sounds most likely.”

“They’re not just nightmares, though. I can sense him. He’s watching. I know he is.”

“I don’t doubt that you sense his presence, but that doesn’t mean he’s actually there, man.”

Dipper stiffened. “Why won’t you just believe me?” he shouted. Dipper spun around in fury, not willing to listen any longer. He stormed into the Shack, leaving Soos to watch him go.

Soos sighed. “That didn’t work at all.”

\- 

That had been a close call. 

There is absolutely such a thing as too much influence when you’re trying to be subtle, but these humans really like to push it.

Question Mark is definitely smarter than he seems. He’ll be worth keeping an eye on.

And poor little Pine Tree, having to answer such hard questions. Why should he have to? They’ve proven that they won’t understand the answer. So why bother? 

But it’s so infuriating that they constantly doubt him and his brilliance. Hasn’t he proven himself enough times for them? Saved them? And yet, they still don’t trust him enough to believe him. How pathetic.

He trusts them, so why don’t they return the favor? Do they even deserve his trust? No, no, they don’t. They’ve proved that they won’t trust him in return. That’s what they want, isn’t it? Proof? Well, they’ve given substantial amounts of it.

So if they won’t trust him, then why should he trust them? It’s just like the Author said. He had ignored the Author on that point. Decided that his friends and family were trustworthy enough, they’d never betray him.

But once again, the Author was right. He’d been a fool for doubting the journal. It wouldn’t lie to him.

Of course, it was only written by a human. A knowledgeable human, but a human nonetheless. And a human can be swayed. With enough reward, you can get a human to do just about anything. Could even the Author be trusted at this point?

Maybe. 

But a stagnant creature, an immortal? They have no need to change. They have been, and they will be. Static. Perhaps an immortal could be trusted where a mortal could not. 

But that was a fact for another day.

The sun finally set, and the light yielded to all-encompassing darkness.


	3. foul, strange, and unnatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stuff that dreams are made on begins to overflow.
> 
> Dipper lives with the effects.
> 
> Stan was right. All the world’s a stage.
> 
> Mabel lives with the effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos! (Now if only I had some comments to drool over.)
> 
> Next update on Friday or Saturday.

The world was silent and gray.

Dipper was in bed when he awoke in the mindscape, but the room was flat. All the liveliness of Mabel’s belongings and decorations was depleted and tired-looking. Her bed was empty, and he was alone.

The atmosphere, tinted gold, was too dull to hold Dipper’s attention. The room seemed two-dimensional, with all of the items strewn about seeming more like props than actual things.

Dipper crawled out of bed, noting that it was no warmer where he’d be lying in it. Like he’d never been there at all.

Dipper stifled his breathing, uncomfortable with the noise. In dead silence, any sort of noise is troubling. If he breathed too loudly, he might not hear a warning of imminent company. And in the mindscape, any company he had would not be good.

Tip-toeing along the creaking floor, Dipper winced with every noise. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs with only fearful glimpses into each passing room. The house seemed devoid of any life, and just as fake as his room had been. 

Dipper’s heart pounded in his chest, almost managing to drown out the sound of his footsteps. He could’ve sworn that the real Shack wasn’t nearly this creaky. 

As soon as he walked past the living room door, he heard the loud noise of television static. Dipper jumped a mile and clutched his chest, trying to quell his furious heart. He spun around to look into the living room, finding it just as empty as before, but the television stuck out, looking far more real than anything else in the house. It was on, and its screen glowed, shedding light across the flat objects of the room. The discordant static that he could hear so plainly showed bright blue.

Dipper looked around, hoping desperately that something hadn’t sneaked up on him while he was focused on the television, but, aside from the flashing blue light, everything seemed still. He slowly reached out to turn it off.

He flipped the switch, and the static grew to an earsplitting volume for an instant, blinding him with golden light that left spots on his vision. Dipper screamed, drawing away from the television. He rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them, everything was flat and gray again. Like it had never happened.

Dipper gave the living room one last worried look, his heart still racing, and went back to the hallway. He continued through the house, trying to look in all directions. He did not want anything sneaking up on him.

After what seemed like several agonizing hours, he had reached the door to the porch. He took a deep breath and pulled it open.

The trees were gone. Mountains of blue and gray ash had replaced the forest completely. All of the trees had burnt away.

Standing in the open door, Dipper felt frozen. The trees had always been so welcoming, and even though he knew these were fake, a cheap replica of his own forest, it was still terrifying to see. To be able to picture exactly what it would look like for his forest to be destroyed was never something he wanted.

As he stood in the doorway, his heartbeat pounded away, growing louder and louder. Ticking away the seconds he spent in that place, unable to move. 

The nearest pile of ash began to stir, drawing Dipper’s attention immediately. Something slowly rolled towards the house, and Dipper recognized it. It was the yellow eye that had started the fire, born of the rock he’d thrown into the trees. He was struck with a sense of guilt. If he’d stopped himself from throwing the rock, would the fire have even happened?

The eye rolled to the edge of the porch, staring at Dipper intensely. He found his gaze glued to the eye, though it remained completely still.

For several moments, the staring contest was frozen in time. But in an instant, the black pupil swirled, misshapen, and curled around the eye. It began curving around to form symbols, some Dipper recognized, many he didn’t, and never staying in one for more than a second. The black pattern changed, spelling out things in code. For hours, it seemed like it imparted all the knowledge Dipper would ever want, but he couldn’t understand it.

And then, it spelled out a word that he could understand.

Vigilance.

Dipper felt unimaginable force around his neck, pulling him backward into the house. The eye rose up, and its pupil was all he could see.

\- 

Dipper flew out of his bed. The painful cold of the air was a relief; it meant his blankets had been warm. They were real.

He was awake.

With a deep, trembling breath, he climbed to his feet. As tired as he was, there was no way he was going back to bed.

Dipper sat down on the bed and noticed he was rubbing his neck. He swallowed, felt it slide down his throat. There was room. He could breathe. There was nothing holding it.

And yet…

He shook his head. It would do no good to dwell on it. He took another breath, and quietly hoped that it would be gone by the next time he went to the mindscape.

With sleep out of the question, Dipper needed something to blow time. He could probably go watch television without waking anyone up, but, with what had just happened in the mindscape, Dipper was hesitant to go far. Not in the dark, not in the silence.

He reached out blindly towards the nightstand, smiling thinly when his hand found the journal. He held it close, just letting the knowledge it contained protect him. Logically, of course, he knew that the book itself couldn’t protect him from anything, but having it near him definitely helped make him feel a little better. It wasn’t like it was a safety blanket or anything. He was too old for something like that. It was the knowledge in the journal. The secrets and spells could keep him safe, and that’s why he liked to keep it close.

He grabbed a flashlight as an afterthought. He didn’t turn it on, knowing he’d wake Mabel, but kept it as a safeguard. Just in case he heard movement. Or something.

And so, Dipper sat alone in the dark, armed with a book and a flashlight.

Is it really paranoia if you’re right?

-

Eventually, the sun rose, and Dipper’s fear could safely ebb away. Harder to hide in the daytime.

At 7:13, Mabel Pines awoke. She’d been tossing for a while, but that’s when she finally opened her eyes. 

The room was bright, brighter than usual. Waddles was tucked in next to her, providing her with a ridiculous amount of heat. She shook him awake, and he oinked in protest. Mabel giggled, much to Waddles’ annoyance. The poor pig. She wondered what it would be like for no one to take you seriously when you were mad because of how cute you were. The train of thought didn’t last long. After all, Mabel knew exactly what that was like.

Squinting, she shifted on the bed and heard the mattress squeak. From across the room, her brother jolted.

“Dipper?” she asked. “Are you alright?” The room was far brighter on her brother’s side of the room, and she could hardly to stand to look over. Her brother had dark shadows under his eyes, a telltale sign that he hadn’t been sleeping well.

Mabel concluded two possible reasons. Either the nightmares had been keeping him from a good rest, or he had been deliberately staying awake to avoid them entirely.

Though it wasn’t strange to see the journal on his bed – after all, he basically slept with it – Dipper didn’t usually sleep with a flashlight. Which meant he’d stayed up all night. Again.

“I’m fine.” Mabel sighed in frustration. He was so stubborn, and too proud to admit that he was afraid. He had been quick to tell Mabel about his suspicions, but he fiercely denied being afraid. He just told her because “he could be up to something.”

“Oh. Alright.” She hopped out of bed and made her way to the door, Waddles at her heels. “Well, I’m making breakfast. Come down if you want some.” 

She heard her brother mutter something indecipherable, but she didn’t look back.

She needed to talk to Soos.

-

Dipper continued to stare at the page, but the words kept blurring together.

He knew he had seen that symbol in his dream, but he couldn’t figure out what it meant. The entire section was in code, and not like anything else in the book. Though Dipper had been determined to figure out the symbol’s meaning, it seemed like the forces of human nature would try to stop him at all costs.

He squinted in the bright yellow sunlight. Make that the forces of all nature.

With a sigh, he closed the book and brought it with him downstairs. Though Mabel had made breakfast several hours before, maybe there would be some scraps left. 

Dipper made his way down the stairs, looking pointedly forward. He jumped on occasion when the odd stair creaked, but on the whole, he was pleased to note that it wasn’t every single step.

He walked by the living room, fingers turning white around the journal. He passed the doorway, and the television turned on.

Dipper whirled around, holding the journal in front of him, as if to protect him from something. In the living room, Grunkle Stan held the remote in his hand, looking curiously at the crazed child in the doorway.

“Uh…can I help you?” 

Dipper’s face burned. He quickly put down the journal, trying to salvage his dignity. “No, Grunkle Stan.” He turned around and kept walking.

Stan watched Dipper leave, an eyebrow raised. “Hm. I should probably go be responsible and figure out what that was all about.”

The television flashed bright blue. “And we’re back with Ducktective!” 

“Ooh! I love this show!” Stan leaned back in the armchair, his great-nephew forgotten.

-

Dipper stood in the hallway, out of Stan’s sight, trying to catch his breath. It was just a coincidence. It had nothing to do with his dream, it was just a stupid coincidence.

And the world, for a split second, turned gold.

Dipper felt his heart stop. His back hit the wall, and he held the journal a little tighter.

Enough was enough. Dipper quickly made his way to the kitchen, needing to escape the hallway. He could faintly hear that demon’s horrible laughter echo in his mind, haunting him. Wait. No.

It wasn’t a haunting. It was proof. Bill was behind this. They were not hallucinations, he was not afraid, and he was most certainly not crazy. He was not “making it up to justify his fear to himself.” If he heard Bill laughing, that meant Bill was a part of this.

And Dipper was going to find out what.

-

“Morning, Soos!”

“Good morning, Mabel!”

“So, Soos,” Mabel leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially. “Did you talk to him?”

Soos’s amiable grin became strained. “Uh, who?”

Mabel pouted. “Dipper! Soos, what happened when you talked to him?”

“Uhh…” Soos reached up and scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Mabel, I don’t like this. I don’t want to take sides, here…”

“But you agree with me, don’t you? Dipper is blowing this way out of proportion. He refuses to accept the possibility that he’s just having nightmares like a normal human being!” She huffed. “I don’t think he went to bed at all last night.”

Soos frowned. He had been very surprised to learn that the twins hadn’t been very close before coming to Gravity Falls, but at times like this, it was easy to see why. It felt unnatural. He didn’t like it. “I agree that Dipper needs to find a better way to solve his problems. That’s definite. But I can’t help but think we aren’t helping. True, his claims are a little…uh, out there,” he said, not confident in his choice of words. “And maybe ‘paranoid’ is the right word. But he kinda seemed hurt when I implied it yesterday when I talked to him.” 

Hurt was the wrong word. Infuriated was probably more accurate. Soos had noticed a bit of increased aggression in Dipper, but he didn’t think now was the time to bring it up. Mabel had enough to worry about, she didn’t need this, too.

Mabel’s frowned. “Of course he did! Everyone back home thinks he’s a weirdo for his crazy conspiracies, and I get dragged down because of it!” she said. “Do you know how many friends have left me because they don’t want to be seen talking to the freak’s twin sister?”

Soos cringed. He hadn’t thought of that. “Mabel, I-”

Her face turned a little pink. “Well, anyway, I don’t think Gravity Falls is good for him. Now that he knows some of it’s real, he’s going to go nuts. Everything will be about monsters now, and he’ll think it’s justified. And I’m going to be humiliated by it! No one will ever want to be friends with me again.” She looked down, hiding her face in embarrassment. Soos, unsure of what to do but wanting to do something, patted her shoulder.

The door creaked. Soos looked over.

There stood Dipper, eyes aflame in anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up:
> 
> Stan tries to trammel the consequence.
> 
> Mabel is mad.
> 
> Life springs from the ash.
> 
> Dipper thinks he’s mad.
> 
> △
> 
> Plans are set back, but not by much.


	4. our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan tries to trammel the consequence.
> 
> Mabel is mad.
> 
> Life springs from the ash.
> 
> Dipper thinks he’s mad.
> 
> △
> 
> Plans are set back, but not by much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is hideously late, and I apologize. I tried to modify Mabel's parts a little, but I'm not sure to what extent I succeeded.

How dare they.

How dare she.

This was betrayal. How could she justify it? She had never believed him in the past, never wanted any part of it. Decided that he was ruining her life with his meddling and paranoia.

But here he was, completely in the right, and she still didn’t trust him. Hadn’t he been proven right before? The supernatural was real! He wasn’t crazy; he was observant where others weren’t. He was willing to put in the extra mile. He was brilliant.

And he was better than them.

But she still wouldn’t see it! She was just like the rest of them. Disagreeing because she just couldn’t see what he could, even when the evidence was all right there.

It disgusted him. The simplicity of their minds, the ignorance that they allowed in. They were like the Society of the Blind Eye. They knew the truth, but chose to forget. They were weak.

-

Heh.

You tell her, Pine Tree.

-

Stan entered the kitchen to see a raging Dipper, a furious Mabel, and a visibly distressed Soos. 

He almost left the room immediately.

“Mr. Pines! They can smell fear!” Both twins immediately rounded on Soos. He looked terrified.

“You! You’re no better, blindly taking her side because it’s easy!”

“You leave him out of this, Dipper! He has nothing to do with it!”

“Really? Because unless I was hearing you talk to yourself, I think I disagree!”

“Hey! Both of you, shut it!” The furious twins turned to Stan, and suddenly, he understood Soos’s expression completely.

“Now. Why don’t you both calmly tell me what the matter is?”

The resulting cacophony made him regret his choices profusely.

“Nevermind. Soos!” The man, having been languishing in the lack of attention directed at him, suddenly straightened. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, Mr. Pines, well, you see…” He looked at the twins nervously, worried about taking sides. “Mabel’s upset because she thinks Dipper’s been overreacting and taking things too seriously, and Dipper thinks Mabel’s acting like what I think is a bunch of bullies from their school.”

Dipper and Mabel glared at each other. Stan sighed.

Why was he in charge of children, again?

“Why don’t you two, uh, try to talk it out?” he said lamely. “Civilly, I mean. No shouting. Both of you have valid points, and I think you should be able to work through this if you just try to…I don’t know, listen to each other?” For something he was making up on the spot, this might actually work.

“Yeah…Dipper, Mabel, go to the living room and tell each other why you’re feeling what you’re feeling and try to empathize or whatever.” The twins did not look happy with this idea, but they both shuffled into the living room sulkily. 

Stan and Soos were left behind in the kitchen, waiting in silence for a few minutes. 

They heard no screaming. Both let out a deep breath and grinned at the other. Stan laughed a bit and grabbed two soda from the fridge. 

“Phew. I cannot believe that worked.” He tossed one to Soos.

“That was impressive, Mr. Pines. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I didn’t. Best part of being an amazing con man like me – you can make that kind of thing up and it seems legit.” He chuckled, popping open the can.

“Well, it was pretty great. I thought they were gonna kill each other. Or me, I guess.”

“So did I, for a minute. I was pretty worried.” He took a sip. “I had no idea what I was going to do for maintenance until I could find a replacement.”

Soos looked horrified, and it was totally worth it. Stan grinned. He was an awesome guardian.

-

Mabel felt horrible, but she hadn’t changed her mind.

She knew she was siding against her brother, but hearing his worries just made her feel worse about it. Her brother had strange interests, and he was pretty open about them. He was just fodder for the bullies.

Mabel had never really minded bullies. At first, she had felt self-conscious, but she quickly decided that she didn’t care what they had to say. They couldn’t touch her. However, though Mabel didn’t care what others thought, she still craved friendship. She saw all the other girls, closer than sisters, and could not help the longing. It wasn’t difficult for her to make friends. She was friendly and fun, and her confidenc was contagious. But even though Mabel was immune to mocking, her short-lived friends were not.

It had been worse a few years ago, when he had nerdy interests as well as a lack of shame. The supernatural was all he’d talk about. Weird, scary stuff. It freaked out a lot of their classmates. And, of course, when you’re a kid, weirdness is contagious.

So Mabel had had very few lasting friendships in her life. There had been a few who’d tried to stay, and seemed genuinely sorry when they left, but none of them had been able to last through the teasing. 

Mabel never really realized how much worse the teasing had been for her brother. Obviously, they made fun of him more, but it had never processed that all of her “weirdness” was secondhand. Dipper was the source.

Dipper had never really had any friends. That’s why everyone knew them to be twins, joined at the hip, even though they didn’t usually get along that well. For all he disliked his sister, she was his strongest connection. He didn’t have friends, but he had a sister.

There were reasons he didn’t have any actual friends. He had believed in the Tooth Fairy until they were eight. He was too weird for even the “weird” kids. All of that belief was eventually stamped out of him. Or, at least, he’d learned to hide it better.

Mabel still thought he was panicking over nothing. She felt bad that he was having nightmares, but there was nothing she could do. 

-

Dipper hadn’t changed his mind, but he felt horrible.

He had always been fascinated with the supernatural. This was not negotiable. He had been entranced by the mysterious and unknown for as long as he could remember.

When he was younger, he didn’t know that it was weird. He talked about it constantly, to anyone who would listen. It was so interesting, who would be bored?

Lots of people, as he came to understand.

But he’d always been so caught up in why no one would believe him, why no one else could see it when it was always right there.

He’d stood by his sister because she had to like him. She didn’t have a choice. She was his sister. (She had gone against this rule time and time again, but he couldn’t keep the grudge. He had no one else.)

She was always mad at him. She wanted acceptance from the ignorants, but they wouldn’t give it to her. Because of him.

At first, he had been glad. It served her right for trying to abandon him.

But vindication had eventually left him. When he tried to let her go, there was nowhere left. The only side to stand by was his.

She’d already been tainted.

Dipper had a strange relationship with the inferior-minded. It angered him that they were considered to be his superior because they were stronger (irrelevant – brains over brawns) or had better grades (only because he spent his time reading instead of trying to figure out the homework). He knew he had something better, but no one ever believed him.

Their teasing had been nearly intolerable. He’d had so many sick days, just to avoid having to see them.

But it seemed that he had inadvertently kept his sister from having any lasting companionship other than him. He hadn’t meant to, but it was because of him.

He had never really understood why it was so important to Mabel.

Meddling with emotions is risky. You can’t do too much, or you’ll be noticed.

So Dipper finally began to understand why.

-

At around five, the twins finished spilling their souls.

There had been tears, there had been laughs (though far more of the former), and they had been made closer.

And so Mabel decided that a movie night was in store for the two of them. Dipper wouldn’t have said no for the world.

They watched three (truly atrocious) movies that they’d brought with them from home. The only things Stan had around were old VHS tapes, and none of them were interesting in the least. Though they’d already watched all three movies that summer, neither of them minded.

Mabel fell asleep towards the beginning of the third movie. A shame, too. Her favorite part hadn’t happened yet.

Dipper was still very reluctant to sleep, and with Mabel upstairs in bed, and the house dark and empty, he found himself very afraid. He was still exhausted, and in times when he was alone, he felt like he hadn’t slept in days, despite the fact that he knew very well that he had.

He glanced around the living room, the lights from the movie bouncing off the objects in the room. They all looked three-dimensional.

Dipper took a deep breath and shifted a little further under his blanket to watch the movie.

The bad guy, Hugo Goulding, was being confronted when the movie screen became distorted. The sound was almost unintelligible, and when the character’s face came back onscreen, it was no longer him.

It was Bill.

-

Dipper screamed, and suddenly, the world was gray and flat.

He had fallen asleep.

The television was showing blue static, and Dipper knew what was coming. He tore out of the house, ignoring the creaking. It grew louder with every step. He reached the kitchen, and he could still hear the static. It was following him. 

His heart was racing, thudding painfully in his chest. He reached the door to the porch, and didn’t waste an instant where he had once wasted hours. He slammed it shut and locked it from the outside, then dragged the porch bench under the doorknob. Nothing would be getting out of the house now.

It wouldn’t get him.

Dipper breathed heavily, taking a second to look around. The ashes were still in place, but rising out of them were new trees. Almost as tall as Dipper himself, they just cemented the falsity of the world around him. 

Dipper sat in a pile of ash, fully prepared to wait there until morning. But out of the chilling silence came a faint, obviously distant noise. A laugh?

Not like Bill’s. Dipper knew what Bill’s laugh was like, and this wasn’t it. It was less harsh, less echoing. Less surreal.

Dipper sat up in the ash, making a face at the gray that stuck to his clothes. But a few moments later, he heard it again.

It came from the plain of ashes, where the forest had once been. Gulping, Dipper stood from the pile and waded into the ash, intent on finding the voice.

It was incredibly difficult to get through the ash, but as the voice got louder, it became easier, faster. As he travelled, the trees poking through the ashes got taller, until eventually they were full-sized pines with their roots blanketed in ash. 

Though he knew this was his forest, Dipper didn’t recognize the path. He passed a tree with a branch that grew thicker at the ends, then splitting off. It almost looked like an arrow, pointing him right.

And he heard the voice again. This time, he thought he recognized it.

He followed the arrow branch and was rewarded with space between the trees, completely cleared of ash. 

In the center was Mabel. She had her back to Dipper, but there was no doubt that it was her. And in her hand was the journal.

He heard the voice again. It didn’t sound like Mabel. Too distorted.

“Mabel?”

She laughed. Her hand caught fire, and the journal burned. 

Dipper blinked. She was gone.

He raced to his precious book, but he couldn’t get too close. The blue flame burned too hot. He was forced to watch it burn from a few feet away.

Quickly, the pages were swallowed up, and the clearing filled with fluttering gray ash. When the flames subsided, there was one scrap of paper left on the ground.

Dipper picked it up and flipped it over.

TRUST NO ONE.


End file.
